Two Brothers
by Steel-BonedSelaneen
Summary: One-shot - What role can a Squib play in a time of war? Contains mild char. death. 1st fic.


Two Brothers

Two Brothers

'_See how these names are feted by the waving grass_

_And by the streamers of white cloud_

_And whispers of wind in the listening sky._

_The names of those who in their lives fought for life,_

_Who wore at their hearts the fire's centre._

_Born of the sun, they travelled a short while toward the sun_

_And left the vivid air signed with their honour.'_

Jonas looked over the drooping top of yesterdays Prophet and sighed "Looks bad, brother mine" Corran lowered the corner of his crisp looking 'Times' and nodded "Bad indeed" Then after a moments thought: "What does Albus think?"

"Well you know Albus – impossible to tell what he thinks"

Corran rolled his eyes "I meant the phrase in the Muggle sense Jonas, thankfully 'legilimens' is not something I have to deal with on a daily basis"

"For which you are no doubt exceptionally grateful, I'm sure your commanding officer would be disappointed to know how little you appreciate his sterling efforts!"

Corran merely snorted into his morning tea.

* * *

Jonas' mother was a typical Melchior bride; loyal, hard working, made of sterner stuff than the average witch. The former Lavinia Wren was a delicate, tiny, birdlike woman whom everyone was surprised to learn was a former Gryffindor. Her husband was, as befitting a true descendant of the founder, a Hufflepuff to the core. Balthasar Caspar Melchior, aside from being deeply amused by his own name, was a man of gentle humour and easy grace. Well placed within the ministry he could out-lord the haughtiest scion of a pureblood house, then a moment later be debating quidditch scores with the lowliest care-taker. Jonas was a much adored first born child raised with a firm hand and indulgent heart, he had his fathers easy manner and collected friends of all ranks and houses without any visible effort. Corran was the younger by five years, it had taken the arrival of Jonas' Hogwarts letter to bring acknowledgement of the truth know privately by the whole family – there would be no letter for Corran when the time came.

Within the family the fact that Corran was a squib altered very little. Outside though there would always be mutterings and half-heard whispers, these where never met with anger or defence, Jonas never deigned to respond to such goading as came his way, and his parents… Well Jonas always thought of it as a wall, a wall like those at Hogwarts, cold and grey on the outside, warm and bright on the inside. Balthasar and Lavinia always turned to Corran first, he was their son, adored regardless, they could not change minds or hearts and so did not bother to try. At the time Jonas was surprised that his mothers Gryffindor spirit did not manifest itself then. It was only many years later, when he was a father and grandfather himself that he could see how very much courage the tiny, fragile woman had carried. It took those years to teach him how much courage it sometimes takes to see a future beyond the haze of today. It took still more to show him the strength of that quiet, private, lonely courage; the sort of courage that is rarely recognised, more rarely acknowledged or rewarded but goes on none the less.

Certainly the family loyalty never wavered. Balthasar was determined for his son. "You stand on the cusp of two worlds" he had said when the time came for Corran to go away to school "that is a great thing for you, you will never become hidebound in either world, and you will see more than any of us can imagine". They sent him to Ampleforth "a good school son – you will meet the right people, make good connections, no reason not to expect you to go far". So Corran had gone, and had succeeded with the same ease as his brother had at Hogwarts.

Then came the war….

* * *

"I can't stand by, not when I'm needed"

Jonas shook his head, his mother had summoned him by floo when she had sensed a confrontation in the air. In truth Jonas could say little, no, he did not want his baby brother to go to war but he had gone to war himself, he could not stand by with Grindewald on the rise. Could not watch the wizarding world threatened without doing something, anything… how could he chastise his brother for feeling the same about the Muggle world?

Balthasar passed a hand over his face "There is no need for you to risk yourself; it is not our war…"

Corran threw his arms up "It is my war! My friends are out there now fighting it!" He sighed and raised his hands again, this time in a gesture of supplication "If I had magic I would be with Jonas, helping Albus and the rest, but I don't Father. This war, it needs to be fought, by muggles as well as wizards, and the muggle front matters just as much as the wizarding front." He seemed close to tears now "I can not just stand by…"

"No, no you can't. Truthfully, you wouldn't be the man I raised you to be if you could"

So Corran Melchior went to war.

* * *

The telegram could not have bought good news. It had been Jonas' private fear since he had received Corran's last letter. Carefully worded to get past the muggle censors it had put a deep pit of dread in Jonas.

_Brother Mine,_

_All is well here for the most part. It is good to be still for a little while and dry too!_

_There is something big in the offing here. We will probably be gone by the time you receive this. There is something, well a feeling of mine, maybe some of that stuff is showing up in my blood at last! No grim or entrails needed to tell us this is a dangerous time but, well, if the worst should come to pass I wanted to have told someone._

_Jonas & Isolde, I don't doubt there will be the patter of tiny feet in your future! I want you to tell them about me, whatever happens; I don't want to be forgotten. Tell them who and what I was and why I had to fight. Tell them that both sides of this war mattered equally. I am proud of what I have done and Jonas, I wouldn't change a thing, tell Mother and Father, not one thing. _

_That said I'm not one to wax maudlin. I will try and bring you both back something nice for a belated wedding gift. Tell Albus that I am keeping 'my ears open and my eyes to the ground' I'm sure he can find me if he needs me, otherwise an owl will most likely. Tell Ma that I had her last, and that I will most certainly be alert for any possible brides!!_

_I must get back to it, duty is calling and she has a strident voice, so until next time I remain always,_

_Brother Yours,_

_Corran._

Jonas thought it strange. Corran had been away from home for some time, contact had been irregular, the possibility that death might take one of them had always been there. But somehow the Corran shaped gap in him had still been filled, the knowledge that if he could only reach far enough Corran would be there. Now there was only emptiness. There was no way back from death for wizard or muggle or squib. Whatever Albus' mutterings Jonas had studied Beedle, had studied the tales Beedle had studied in his turn. There would be no return for bright, laughing, gloriously alive Corran. Only the memory would remain. Jonas turned in his bed towards his new wife, only the memory to be treasured and passed along.

* * *

The years passed, the war ended, another war began and claimed Jonas' memory and eventually his life before it came to a sudden halt. Another war began and ended in its turn…

In a quaint cottage somewhere in the northern counties a young woman took out her wand and charmed the dust from the mantle. The picture frames clustered there told the tale of two families made one, two children grown to adulthood. Static muggles smiled out of their frames, as the wizards waved cheerfully up at the woman as she moved to adjust them. Her hand paused over the still image of a smiling, dashing man in his muggle uniform. Wizard, Muggle or Squib, family all the same, and this great-uncle had died to prove that they were all alike. The woman touched a hand to the scar she carried from her own time on the battlefield and smiled at the stories.

The back door banged open. "Muuummm come see"

"Urrgh, what have I told you?"

"I know, I know not in the house, but Mum!"

"No! Outside, right now!" The woman paused and glanced back to the living room "love you Corran"

The muddy ten year old just rolled his eyes but as he turned away a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

'_What is precious, is never to forget'_

* * *

Quotes taken from 'I Think Continually' by Stephen Spender.

A/N – In my imaging Corran Melchior, although he had served elsewhere during the conflict, was killed during the D-Day offensive on 6th June 1944. During the landings around 156,115 British, American and Canadian troops arrived in Normandy by sea and air, so there is plenty of 'historical room' for one squib to pass in to family legend.

A/N#2 - This is my first uploaded fic - it fits into a series that exists only in my head and was born out of a conversation with my sister about Squibs. Reviews gratefully recieved! Ta Muchly!


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